


Red Card(s)

by nikuy



Series: Hard and Fast (It's A Roller-coaster Ride) [1]
Category: Football RPF, real madrid
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot, unestablished relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikuy/pseuds/nikuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was a fucking clap. He didn’t hurt anyone; he always makes sure that he doesn’t. Now with the team’s points running low and the stress from Champions League, he refused to know the world for now. He had too cool down.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Card(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the suspension for the carded Madrid players are declared. *le sigh*

Mesut practically tried to be polite to the team crew by shrugging them off as he stalked towards the changing room. He slammed the door shut right in front of their faces, feeling guilty at the actions he took but he knew they’d understand. He needed a cold shower to cool his head down, maybe he should wait until his body cooled off, but he couldn’t get the ref’s face out of his head that way. It was a _fucking_ clap. He didn’t hurt anyone; he always makes sure that he doesn’t. Now with the team’s points running low and the stress from the Champions League, he refused to know the world for now. He had too cool down.

 

It didn’t make sense at all. He tried to look for what he did wrong; it was a real heated game today, Villarreal played good and it took him more than he usually did to prance on the pitch. They were very insistent, but he maintained his temper just like he usually did, though some occurrences did provoke him in a way or two, but it didn’t lead him to react disrespectfully. It was his natural reaction, it was devastating to hear that the ref sent Sergio out just like that. He was an essential part in every single game; as his teammate, he sure would react even if it was just a little, he needed an outlet.

 

He knew what would happen if one would act stupid enough to get the referee’s unwanted attention, he saw that happened to Sergio way too often. If only the older man would control himself more, but rather than being sent out _just because_ of a simple, sarcastic clap the ref found unpleasant, Mesut felt like he should’ve dived or even punched the motherfucker in the face.

 

Sighing, he took his top off. He could feel his body starts to cool down, but his head hasn’t. He should take the mentioned cold shower quickly and lock himself in this room afterwards, get home as soon as possible, and/or maybe hit the club on his way home. He couldn’t possibly stay still with such anger and distress lingering in his head.

 

After he stripped down and took a fresh towel, he went into the shower room and closed the door behind him though he noticed something weird. On the bench he saw scattered clothes; there was another clean towel on the hanger and sounds of running water. Silently he walked closer and he saw one shower running with someone familiar standing below it.

 

He felt a weird feeling in his stomach as he noticed who it was; how could he forget? Sergio was sent out only a few seconds before him. He remembered how none of his teammates would suggest him and the newbies to deal with an angry Sergio, but he didn’t care. The atmosphere in the shower room grew thick for him as he watched droplets of water running down on that blade of his broad back, some trickling down on his tattooed shoulder, and further down to his finely-shaped muscled arse. His shoulders looked tense, though, which made him look even bigger and scarier than he was on the pitch, but it was weird for Mesut to feel intrigued at the thought.

 

The German bit his lower lip and walked closer, trying not to surprise him by saying; “Hey.”

 

Sergio only glanced back for a moment before he turned his head again, “Yo.” He replied.

 

Mesut decided to take the shower only next to his teammate and turn the tap. He sighed deeply as the cold water hits his head and cools down his body. He closed his eyes momentarily, devouring the soothing sensation the water gave on his body. He didn’t keep them closed for too long as he felt a pair of eyes on him and peered at the older man who was unabashedly staring at him, eyes were dark and his longish brown hair stuck to his face. The striker almost gulped at the sight, he never thought Sergio could look so handsome before. He had seen him drenching wet, in ads or in the shower, it wasn’t their first shower together, but it sure was their first alone.

 

“What did he send you out for?” out of blue, the Spaniard asked.

 

Mesut turned his head fully to him and blinked as some water got into his eyes, “Uh… _clapping_?” he said in English since he didn’t know the term and was far too occupied right now to think it over.

 

Sergio chuckled lowly, “That _puta_.” He shook his head, “You’re the last person I’d ever think of getting kicked out of the pitch. You’re too nice for that.”

 

The German glared at him, “What do you mean ‘too nice’?”

 

“You know,” the taller one shrugged, “Your kind of good baby-boy, well-behaved, polite, shy and all.”

 

“I’m not like that.” Mesut could feel his cheeks heated and wiped his face with both palms, it felt a little unreal. He knew though that Sergio meant no harm; no wonder the others warned him about an angry Sergio.

 

The Spaniard eyed him and there was a dark gleam in his eyes as he watched his teammate fidgets. He smirked moved to lean on the tiled wall in front of him, “But you are, aren’t you? Little Mesut with his doe eyes and naivete, completely unaware of what the real world has in store for you.”

 

The German turned a glare at his companion, “Shut the fuck up.”

 

“What, did I punch the right button?” the taller man took a step closer, locking his eyes with the younger man.

 

“I might punch you back for that.” Mesut said, the anger could be uncontrollable any second now, Sergio really needs to stop.

 

“What, little baby Mesut is finally growing fangs, isn’t he? How adorable.” He reached out to tilt the other man’s chin. The skin felt so good against his. He knew the German well enough to know that he wasn’t one who pays special attention to his skin, but his face always seems to be smooth, especially drenching wet like that. The younger man slapped his hand with a growl, Sergio was a little taken aback but he could easily maintain his composure, “What was that for?”

 

Mesut only glared at him angrily, he knew he couldn’t reply to that right now, not unless he’d punch the jerk right in his face. He’d break that fine nose of his alright, maybe bruise his perfectly tanned skin there, or remove that beautiful, proud smirk of his? He got a lot of options, but rather than that, he found himself staring in an odd way. This man—this Sergio Ramos is beautiful with his skills, his megawatt smile, his perfectly-shaped body, tattoos…oh, those tattoos never looked so astounding before. The German was never a tattoo-kind of guy, but Sergio’s are very unique. They held almost a mystical significance in their existence all over the Spaniard’s body; it was as if they belong to be there at the first place.

 

Sergio took a step forward, completely aware of the boy’s eyes on almost every inch of his body with his face flushed and lips parted. It was weird that he just realized how small that mouth was, but the thought of stretching it in the most pleasant way was somehow exciting, he didn’t know why but he knew what he wanted. He could foresee it.

 

It was a touch on his shoulder that made Mesut twitch, but then his back was slammed against the wall and a pair of lips melted with his. It wasn’t a kiss he could keep up or even compete with, he was a little uncertain that it was a kiss at all. It wasn’t soft and gentle like the ones he had before, obviously not with men, and Ramos was not like anyone he had encountered with. Those thin lips are swift, there were teeth, lots of lapping, but more teeth. The German groaned at the tangy taste on his tongue as Sergio released his lower lip; it became swollen from being bitten too hard.

 

The younger man yelped as he felt hand—two hands all over him, moving so quickly to his bottom, up to his spine, down on his inner thigh, then one enclosed around his hardening shaft. He had to wrap an arm around his teammate’s neck for support; it had been too long. He started to feel weak on his knees, but he hated to admit. He glared at Sergio who looked at him rather intently, eyes were dark and lips were wet with both their saliva.

 

“… _puta_ …” Mesut gasped and bit his lower lip as the older man started to pump his length slowly. He gripped hard on Sergio’s tattooed shoulder while trying to comprehend the situation. He felt everything, everything he had never felt before all at the same time—anger, heat, humiliation, lust, stress, need. He threw his head back and hit the tiles, gasping at the intense sensation of his teammate’s thumb fingering his swollen crown, squishing out thin pre-come and smearing it all over. The younger man had to put his wrist on his face and down to bite it, to hold back the voices that he needed to release. A tear slid down his face and he held it back too. He wouldn’t embarrass himself any further, he didn’t need to.

 

“You slut,” the taller one spat, “Getting hard from being touched by a man, I bet you’ve been fantasizing about it.” He tugged on the rigid flesh, eliciting a moan from his teammate.

 

“ _B-basta…basta_!” Mesut gasped but opposed with his own words, his arm pulled Sergio closer. He buried his face into the crook of the older man’s neck but his other hand was pushing the man away. He felt contradiction, he hated the feeling, he felt humiliated but he loved the Spaniard’s callused fingers against his skin, his cock, he loved it and he wanted more but he hated it. He didn’t know any longer which side of him he should listen to; his head was a mess and the sounds he was making…

 

“Do you want it here?” Sergio whispered as he drag his finger down to the German’s wet, tight sac, “Do you want it here?” he ran his fingers to the fleshy part of the bottom of his arse, “Tell me, little Mes, do you want it _here_?” his fingers spread the flesh a little but enough for him to slip one finger and nudge the tight, tight and untouched opening.

 

Mesut shuddered and leaned back against the wall with a loud, inappropriate, German cuss. It was weird that he knew what was about to happen next, but the logic is already replaced with the blurry sight of Sergio’s tattoos and the lust he had been keeping for too long, the anger only made everything seems right for him. He stretched an arm out to Sergio, none of them would stop now anyway, he didn’t even take a second to adjust to the new feeling as he wrapped his hand around the Spaniard’s thick rod and pumped it with his fist, trying to do something—anything that wouldn’t make him feel like that anymore.

 

Sergio hummed and pressed his body close; chest-to-chest, loin-to-loin. He worked on the German slowly with every stroke and emphasized squeeze as if to bring Mesut to his pace, and so the Turk slowed down on touching the taller man. His eyes fell shut, head thrown back as he moaned at every touch and squeeze; his hand was strong, firm, and hot. He felt so good, but not good enough to come. He was keeping his pace on the older man the same, but he seemed to prefer this pace and almost didn’t look troubled at all.

 

Once again the taller man leaned in and kissed his torn lips, making his companion hiccups and sucked on the velvety pink tongue before he dips his head to Mesut’s crook of neck, gasping. He whispered, “I want to fuck you. Suck me and I’ll make you feel better.”

 

It wasn’t the level of Spanish the German was used to, of course, but he brought himself to his knees in one go and gripped the older man’s hips. He didn’t even glance as he flicked a tongue over the red, uncircumcised head and went a little too fast on engulfing the older man’s dick. He coughed; Sergio stroked his wet hair and murmured ‘slowly’ which Mesut nodded to before he touched the base of his teammate’s hard cock. He messaged the area gently, paying no mind at all to the thin, light hair that gave him a tingly feeling, and slowly he took the head back into his mouth.

 

This time, Sergio threw his head back at the hot, wet sensation around his dick. He put a hand behind Mesut’s head, trying to control himself by entangling his fingers with the curls of the soft, dark hair. He bit his lower lip as the younger man slowly took him in inch by inch. He looked down at the brunette with his lips parted, watching how those abused, swollen lips stretched more and more inch after inch, saliva dripping to the boy’s chin, and finally Mesut stopped. He couldn’t take more, his eyes were already more watery than before. He wasn’t born a cocksucker, he wasn’t good, but to know that he tried his best to please was enough for Sergio. That silky tongue felt heavenly spoiling on him like that.

 

“Mn…good lad…” the taller man groaned and tugged a little at Mesut’s hair, “Enough…enough, just lick. Make it wet…spit, whatever.”

 

Mesut nodded though it sounded neither like a command nor did he need to do so since the water is still running, though he did a good job getting Sergio wet, he licked the shaft thoroughly, careful enough not to hurt him, and hard enough to make him feel good. It was a little surprising when the taller man pulled away in a jerk and pulled him up only to kiss him against the wall. He could feel Sergio’s hand crept on his butt cheeks, squeezing impatiently and rubbing their way down to the crack. He felt one hand spread him open and a finger nudged his hole gently. He gasped and relaxed as he tried to get used to the sensation; it felt alien as soon as the older man could get a whole finger in and slid it in and out.

 

The younger man arched his back at the foreign, burning feeling in his abdomen as he clung onto the taller man. He nipped on Sergio’s collar bone only to keep himself from moaning while the older man picked up his speed and decided to add another finger. Mesut bit down on the Spaniard’s neck, made him cringe a bit before he carried on sliding the fingers. He made a low, soothing sound as he made a scissoring-motion. The German started to sob, but he tried his best to relax and finally there was the third finger and he almost couldn’t take it. It was painful being stretched like that, but Sergio brushed against something deep in him lightly and he saw stars behind his eyelids.

 

Sergio repeated the action over and over again, supporting his teammate’s trembling body as he thrusted harder and faster with his fingers. He licked his lips at the delicious noises the younger one made, they all poured out unabashedly now as if he just found the right button to turn off the German’s pride. He crooked his fingers and Mesut gripped his arms harder as he moaned loudly.

 

“…don’t…you…in me…now…” the younger man blabbered in butchered Spanish; it was weird that the Spaniard could understand.

 

He pulled out and pushed the younger man against the wall, telling him to keep leaning while lifting one of his slender, strong legs up with his arm. He had seen Mesut doing warm-ups before, he knew well that the German has a pretty flexible body and he could make use out of that now. He lowered himself a little and placed Mesut’s leg on his shoulder, practically exposing him out. He could see the abused pucker better now, such a pink slutty thing, he thought, twitching at being exposed but so sleek. Carefully he positioned himself before the hole and pushed in slowly.

 

Compared to the three fingers, Sergio’s dick feels like an arm penetrating him. He whined loudly in pain, it was burning and he felt he could tear any second now. He gasped as the older man prodded into him deeper and wrapped his arms around him, nails digging into the tan skin as he cried out in pain.

 

“P-pain…” he said, half-sobbing.

 

“It’ll feel a lot better…” Sergio mumbled as he finally pushed deep to the hilt, gasping as he felt the hot tightness around himself, squeezing the life out of him. “Damn tight…relax…I’m moving now.”

 

Slowly he pulled out and pushed back in, eliciting a shocked yelp from his delirious teammate. The action was repeated over and over again, the pace was picked up slowly. The sounds of their skins slapping against one another was rather arousing, Mesut started to lost in moans and pleas, he was now blabbering in German but Sergio knew he wasn’t begging for him to stop. He knew, from his half-lidded eyes and wet, flushed cheeks, that the younger man was seeing stars behind his eyelids. He bent forward at the sight and licked the bobbing Adam’s apple up to Mesut’s strong jawline, nipping the skin until it turned dark red. The Turk was lost in sensation as the taller one thrusted harder, hitting that bundle of nerves he had no idea he has deep within him. The water made it hard for him to see, but the shockingly amazing sensation kept him from opening his eyes, all he could feel was the older man’s hands gripping on his thigh and ass, also that sly, velvety tongue swirling around his disoriented one.

 

Sergio was keeping his pace, but it wasn’t enough. Mesut didn’t know why, but he needed more. More touching, more passion, more friction. He tried to move his body against the older man and tried to get him to move harder, but the taller man kept his body in the fetal position and he whined in distress. Sergio broke the kiss only to lick his lips and chin before he grinned and asked, “What do you want?”

 

“Uh…more…” Mesut pleaded and moved his hips, he was already dripping but he needed more. “H-harder, Sergio …”

 

“Little slutty boy…” Sergio mouthed, but he pounded harder, picking up his pace while keeping the younger man’s hips still with one hand. He could feel himself getting close, though he had this thought of playing some more with the German who was now babbling incoherency with his mouth open and eyes clouded with lust. He told himself to just get this ended with, though; there would be more time to play with, to make this boy cry and beg, there would be more time for that. “…touch yourself, I want to see you come.” He commanded as he pounded faster.

 

Mesut brought his trembling hand to his own dick and wrapped it around the slick, thick rod of his. He let out a deep cry of ecstasy as he stroked himself, both by his own nearing orgasm and the hard pounding on his prostate. He could feel the spreading warmth in his stomach, a sign that he’d come soon, very soon, he just needed a few more strokes and thrusts. He stroked faster and the older man almost put him into a splitting position as he moved faster, breathing on his crinkly ear as he catched up for his own release, both knew they should finish before the match ended. They should be quick.

 

“A…aaah…” Mesut bit his own lip as the orgasm hit him quite hard, spurting his seeds all over Sergio’s wet abdomen and his own. His head grew light at the overwhelming sensation, his hole clenched hard and the Spaniard thrusted deep for the last time and sprayed his seeds deep within the German. Mesut grew limp and could only lean back onto the wall at the tingly sensation of the thick and warm seeds gave him as they stained his insides.

 

The older man was careful enough not to drop the German’s leg right away and wrapped it around his waist instead as he tried to get himself composed, watching the delirious expression of his teammate’s who looked like he was about to faint anytime now. Sergio pulled out carefully only to let his semen drip down the expanse of the Turk’s flushed thigh, drawing a long, sticky line down to his knee. It was so sexy in a weird way, the Spaniard decided he liked it. He liked the debauched look on his friend.

 

Carefully,  Sergio released his teammate’s leg and let him lean onto the wall fully as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled at the broken figure, he looked so wasted and it was good that he should skip the next match; he’d need time to get over this but it wouldn’t be too long. Sergio knew that the boy would come back to him in no time, begging to be debauched over and over again. He smiled to himself before he turned one tap off and walked towards his hanged towel.

 

“Clean yourself, don’t show that face to the others.” He said as he took the towel to dry his hair and wrapped it around his waist. He turned around to take one last look at his friend; his blank eyes, flushed face with wet bangs framing it, parted abused lips, heaving chest, and limp cock. He never looked more beautiful. “In fact, don’t show that face to anyone else.” He added, but when Mesut lifted his face up to look at him, he was already out of the room.

 

\- END


End file.
